"You feel you have caused me pain, Ottilie. Oh, make amends for it, and follow me to my country as my protectress, my guardian angel! You reproach me with being unmanly. Well, if I am so, and depend upon influences, the one you exert over me will be my salvation, and that of all with whom I am connected by any ties. What do I ask of you that is so very terrible? I wish to make you mistress of a beautiful and wealthy land, to give you a position in which alone your superior qualities can make themselves valuable, wed you to a prince whom you greatly undervalue, and who will understand and love you as you deserve." "I want no love," interrupted Ottilie, "I am weary of suffering; do not grudge my repose; I have, by a violent struggle obtained the peace of the grave. Oh, do not drag me back to life! for life is conflict. Ah, Ottmar, have pity upon me! Your glance sinks into my soul, and the spark that flashes from it kindles anew the vital flame which was buried beneath the ashes of my dead hopes. You seize my hand, and by some magnetic attraction I am compelled to follow you. I know not by what invisible threads you hold me: loose them and I sink peacefully towards the grave; draw them firmly and I am forced to yield to your wishes. Oh, the victory you obtain is an easy one! Renounce it, leave me, Ottmar! You can test your power everywhere; why must you try it an one who has no longer any defense save the resignation of a dying woman?" "Good heavens, princess, what a strange mood you are in! See, this is the result of your seclusion. Whence come these thoughts of the grave? You are healthy, in the very prime of life, beloved by all, regarded by the nation with the warmest affection. How could you resign yourself to such melancholy fancies? Nay, I will rouse you now. You must learn to use your vital powers, as well as I my moral strength. Why should you wither here, useless and lonely, without having fulfilled the eternal vocation of a woman? Even if you have no feeling for the man to whom I wish to unite you, you do not know that he may not become dear to you." Ottilie sadly shook her head. "But granted that you can never love him as a husband, you will some day as the father of your children. Fate has granted no desire of your heart, and with royal dignity you have learned to crush it; but, because the first joy of love was denied you, must you now also renounce the maternal happiness this marriage can bestow,--the only one which is a wellspring of lasting joy to a woman? I cannot believe, Ottilie, that with your pure, womanly feelings, the thought of being a mother would have no charm for you." "Oh, God! have often dreamed of such bliss; but I am not born for it. I shall perish without object or joy in life."